


Structurally Sound

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-07
Updated: 2010-05-07
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:56:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7902253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean needs a little bit of structure in his life, needs to know where his boundaries are. Sam is more than happy to provide that—he needs to provide that. Together, they are both all each other needs: self-sufficient in and of themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Structurally Sound

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal 8-28-16.

**Title:** Structurally Sound  
**Author:** [](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dragonspell.livejournal.com/)**dragonspell**  
**Fandom:** Supernatural  
**Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings/Spoilers:** Apocalypse is over!fic. Some control and dependency issues. Spanking. Kink.  
**Summary:** Dean needs a little bit of structure in his life, needs to know where his boundaries are. Sam is more than happy to provide that—he needs to provide that. Together, they are both all each other needs: self-sufficient in and of themselves.  
**Word Count:** 3905  
**A/N:** The fuckers totally woke me up at 5:30 to write this. -_-

  
Dean likes to have a little bit of structure in his life. He always did. Before, it was Dad’s rules—whatever little gems that Dad had said—and Dean would follow them to a T. He wouldn’t follow anyone _else’s_ rules, but that was okay—he already had his boundaries.

And that always worked for him. It made Dean happy. He needs to know where the limits are. When you have a world as dark and as hellish as the one that the Winchesters have lived in, it’s good to have something stable, something constant.

After the whole world went to Hell in a handbasket though—very nearly literally—Dean…needed a little more. He dealt well with the Apocalypse while it was happening, adrenaline and all that, but after it was over, Sam had realized just how much his brother had changed. Sam hadn’t noticed when they were fighting for their lives—he’d simply adjusted accordingly.

Dean had needed a little bit more structure, a little bit more control, and Sam had willingly provided it. That was how they’d always worked: whatever the one lacked or needed, the other would provide. They were self-sufficiently co-dependent like that.

Sam’s well aware that without the other, neither one of them would do well anymore. There was once a time that he could have made a go out of a life without Dean—had thought that’s what he wanted. Now he realizes how wrong he was: life without Dean wouldn’t mean anything.

Sam also knows that Dean’s never had that option. Dean’s never been able to live without Sam. Dean’s never been able to live without at least that one person to structure his life around. At one point, it had been Dad and Sam, together, for Dean to mold himself to—to set the limits and boundaries of himself to. Then, when Sam had left, it had all been Dad. Dean had changed during those four years, became more reliant on Dad, became less likely to question his orders. It’d always been Sam that had provided that questioning nature, rare as it was.

Sam found that he didn’t care much for the person that Dean had become in his absence. He hadn’t liked how reliant Dean had become on Dad. But, just who’s fault was that?

The person that Dean is now, though, it’s not a question of liking or not liking. It’s a matter of being. Dean needs a little bit more structure and Sam needs to provide it. Dean likes a little bit more structure and Sam likes to provide it.

Maybe they’ve both changed. Sam laughs at himself when he thinks about it: you never think of yourself as having changed—just everyone else. But the fact is, Sam needs something to control, now. He’s spent his entire life having his every move dictated to him, whether he knew it or not, and now he’s painfully aware of that fact. Now, he needs at least that one thing that he knows is his.

Dean’s happy to be that for him. Maybe Dean has changed to suit _Sam_. Maybe it hadn’t been the Apocalypse that had changed Dean after all but rather Sam? What one needs, the other will provide.

So Sam is Alpha to Dean’s Beta. It works for them. They need it and the rest of the world can go fuck itself. They don’t care what it thinks. It’s not like the world even notices. The only ones besides Sam and Dean themselves that even has a hint of what’s going on is Bobby and Cas. And probably Chuck. Even then, they don’t have the full-story. Except for Chuck. He probably does.

Sam certainly hopes he enjoys it and he forces himself to quash that little voice inside of him that screams for Chuck’s blood every time he thinks about it. Dean is his and only his but he’s not actually sharing with Chuck—it’s completely involuntary on Chuck’s part and he never says a word about it, even has started editing his novels even more. That would be the only reason why Chuck’s still alive if Sam is brutally honest.

“You with me?” Dean asks and Sam snaps back to attention. He’s got his eyebrows raised to punctuate his question and his head’s ducked as he peers across the diner table at Sam, leaning on his elbows to get a better look. Dean’s framed by the blue vinyl of the booth and highlighted by the dim lamp hanging overhead. It brings out the green in his eyes and he’s so damn gorgeous. Sam kind of wants to spread him out over the faux wood table.

“Whuzzat?” he says as he comes back to himself. “Oh, yeah, no, I’m here.”

“Okay, good,” Dean replies with a little eyeroll. “Wouldn’t want to lose you or anything.”

It’s a joke. Sam knows it is. He also knows that it’s got a serious reason behind it and that makes it not funny at all. He reaches across the table and grabs Dean’s hand, dragging it back over to his side. Dean watches him curiously, not saying a word even as his lips part and his breath speeds up. “I’m not going anywhere, Dean.” It’s a familiar phrase to the both of them—Sam repeats it at least twice a day—but it always gets a reaction out of Dean. Dean blushes, just faintly, a tinge of pink to highlight his cheeks and he licks his lips as they curve into a tiny pleased smile.

Sam’s found that he _really_ doesn’t mind having to repeat himself in this case.

“I know, Sammy,” Dean says back, a quiet whisper just for him. Sam flips over Dean’s hand, baring the palm and Dean leans forward even more, intent on what Sam’s doing. Sam traces the lines of Dean’s skin, and softly pets his fingers, watching each one twitch as he does so. Dean swallows hard, his eyes sliding closed and now it’s Sam’s turn to smile.

“Uh…have we decided?” the waitress asks cheerfully, covering her uncertainty with a false bravado of politeness. Dean jumps and tries to jerk his hand away but Sam pins it to the table, staring him down. Dean swallows again and turns his eyes downward, staring at his own lap.

Sam tilts his head towards the waitress, meeting her fake smile with one of his own. “I want a Sprite and the grilled chicken salad with ranch.” The waitress jots it down and Sam turns to look at Dean again, his smile turning genuine. “Dean wants a Coke and your All-American Burger with the works. Right, Dean?” Dean glances upward, slowly nodding and licks his lips again. It makes Sam want to squirm in his seat—anything to try and soothe the ache that’s growing between his legs.

Sam doesn’t do this all the time—usually it’s only a little hint here and there—just what both of them need—but he’s never been disappointed by Dean’s reactions. Dean has yet to complain because whatever Sam wants, Sam gets. Whatever Dean needs, Dean gets. It works for them. If Dean needs to feel that Sam is here and now and able to take care of him, Sam can do that for him.

Sam jerks his attention away from Dean back to the waitress. “That’s it,” he says and she nods, walking away. Sam turns back to Dean, to Dean’s hot eyes watching him and Sam wishes that they were done with dinner and back at the motel already. No, Dean’s reactions have never disappointed Sam.

He shivers and strokes Dean’s hand again.

\---

Their motel is the typically tacky affair—exactly the kind of place that Dean loves. Frankly, for him, the tackier the better. Sam wishes that maybe they could stay in a little bit nicer place once and awhile—not necessarily the Hilton or anything, just a place that doesn’t have a ‘theme’ that would look more appropriate in an amusement park than a motel. But the tacky rooms make Dean happy and Sam likes making Dean happy.

So he’s putting up with the tackiness of the Sweet Cowboy Dreams Motel even if there is a saddle riding the dividing wall of their room. He even thinks he might want to see Dean up there on that saddle in nothing but his boots but that’s going to have to be later. A lot later.

Because right now, Sam’s got Dean slammed up against the wall, sucking on his neck and Dean is trying his best to claw Sam’s back to shreds. He’s already pulled Dean out of his jacket and ripped off his shirt and he sees that Dean’s got one boot toed off and is working on the other. “Fuck yeah,” Sam growls, ratcheting the knee he’s got between Dean’s legs up a little higher.

Dean moans, squirming and rubbing himself against Sam. “Please—Please, Sammy,” he pants and Sam’s never been able to resist it when Dean starts begging.

“I’ve got you,” he growls, nipping behind Dean’s ear. Dean gasps, tilting his head a little bit more, baring his throat and Sam gives him a soothing lick before letting him collapse against the wall. Sam backs away, forcing himself to ignore Dean’s little whimpers to come back. He grips his own dick tightly, feeling it throb and fights not to come just from watching Dean arch against the wall like a wanton little slut.

Fuck but that’s hot.

Dean’s in nothing but his jeans, leaning against the whitewashed paneling and holding a hand out for Sam, trying to coax him back, while the other runs downs his chest to stop right at the groove of his hip. He wants to continue, Sam knows, but he won’t unless Sam tells him to. Dean licks his lips and whines again, tossing his head to the side as his hips buck, trying to fuck the air.

Sam closes his eyes, sucking in a gulp of an air, calming himself. They weren’t going to last very long if he got too excited. “Get on the bed, Dean,” he says, low and dark. In a flash, Dean’s pushing past Sam, his hands lingering in a promise and Sam shivers. “Naked. On your back.”

When he opens his eyes again, he sees that Dean’s obeyed unquestioningly, stretched out on the white sheets and on display. He’s got his legs spread wide and his hands are now both flirting with the idea of touching himself—they’re sliding slowly up and down his stomach, fingers reaching for what they know they can’t have. Sam’s dick throbs and he gives himself another squeeze before easing off his jeans, discarding them on the floor.

Dean watches him approach and writhes, already mimicking what he wants, his hips lifting invitingly, waiting for Sam. Sam smiles. “Show me how much you want it, Dean. Get yourself ready.” Dean moans and his right hand leaves his stomach to slide up to his mouth, the fingers disappearing between his lips as his eyes flutter closed. Sam’s hips twitch instinctively, wanting. He knows how warm and wet that mouth is. Unfortunately, he’s got other plans tonight.

Dean’s well-aware of Sam’s predicament, though, and he knows how frayed Sam’s patience is tonight. He fucks his fingers in and out of his mouth, moaning for it as he tilts his head to give Sam the best views and sucking hard. Then he pulls them out, holding them above his mouth as he licks his tongue out, laving the tips, before his lips close around them again. He’s making promises and Sam’s ready to cry with how close he feels to coming just from watching. But he gave Dean an order. “Dean.”

Dean shivers and obeys the unspoken command in Sam’s tone, his hand sliding obediently from his mouth, catching a little on the lower lip before descending downward and plunging between Dean’s legs. Dean gives a little gasp and starts, his eyes opening wide and Sam knows that’s breached himself. By the little flutter of Dean’s eyes, too, he knows that Dean is obeying, working himself open, getting himself ready and Sam moves around to get a better view, to watch as Dean’s long fingers plunge in and out.

For a few moments, Sam sees when Dean loses track of where he is, gets distracted by the pleasure and focuses only on what makes him shudder. He fucks himself, pushing in deep to touch the place that has his dick starting to leak. Then Dean turns his head to look at Sam and his movements become more deliberate, an intentional tease as his hand starts pumping in and out the way that Sam’s cock so desperately wishes it was doing.

Sam moves closer, kneeling on the bed between Dean’s spread thighs and Dean arches hopefully. His hand’s still working steadily, hoping to coax Sam into taking its place. Sam gently presses his palms to the tops of Dean’s thighs, feeling the shudder working its way through the muscle, and stays still, almost right where Dean wants him but not quite. Dean whines impatiently, hips bucking in an unspoken demand, and Sam smirks. “You’re being really bad, tonight, Dean.” Dean shakes his head no, trying to disagree but they both know it’s true. “Yes, you are.”

It’s unfortunate because there’s nothing that Sam would like better than to take Dean up on his invitation and plunge into his brother’s sweet heat, fuck him into the mattress until they both come screaming. But this kind of behavior can’t go unpunished and Sam knows that on some level or another, Dean’s well aware of that. Maybe Dean needs a little bit more tonight. Sam drums his fingers on Dean’s thighs, thinking and ignoring how it makes Dean squirm. Then he moves away, making Dean whine in disappointment, and settles on the edge of the bed, his back to Dean. He twists around to look at Dean expectantly. “C’mere.”

Dean bites his lip and plunges in hard again, his spine curving as he arches against the bed. Sam hisses as his dick throbs. Fuck. He’s going to lose control of himself if Dean keeps this up. “I said,” he growls, his arm snapping back to grip Dean’s arm and yank it away from his body, “to _come. Here._ ” He tosses Dean’s arm to the side and narrows his eyes. “Now get up.”

Dean hunches in on himself, knowing he’s gone too far, before rolling onto his knees and moving to where Sam wants him. He waits submissively for Sam’s next order and Sam smiles thinly as he buries a hand in Dean’s hair. “Why do you make me do this?” Sam asks, his voice projecting the disapproval that he doesn’t necessarily feel. Right now he wants to fuck Dean like Dean so obviously wants but first he’s got to deal with this. He’s got to give Dean what he needs. “Why, Dean?”

Dean licks his lips and lowers his eyes. “Sorry, Sammy,” he whispers but he’s not fooling anyone because he’s staring straight at Sam’s dick.

“No you’re not,” Sam replies and uses the leverage he has in Dean’s hair to drag him across Sam’s lap. “But you will be.”

Dean catches himself on his hands, just barely keeping his face out of the sheets. “Sammy?” he asks.

Sam gives him a sharp slap that has him gasping and arching like he had been on the bed. “You need a little reminding, tonight, Dean?” He hits Dean again, making Dean contort away from the pain, surging upwards. Sam holds him in place and strikes again. And again. Over and over until Dean finally cries out.

Sam keeps Dean pinned on his lap even as Dean squirms, trying to slide forward onto the bed or off onto the floor. Anything to get away from Sam’s hand. Sam brings his hand down again, not in a strike, this time, but in a soothing caress, rubbing the hot flesh of Dean’s ass. Dean flinches anyway but then moans as Sam presses against his reddened skin. “Do you feel better now?” Sam asks. Dean doesn’t answer so Sam gives a quick swat making him yelp again.

“Yes,” Dean says, quickly, his voice breaking on the simple word.

Sam goes back to rubbing circles. “Yeah, I thought so.” Dean sometimes just needs a little bit more than usual. That’s okay. Sam can do that for him. Because the fact remains that Dean’s still hard as a rock against Sam’s leg, his erection not having flagged one little bit and Dean’s starting to rock his hips in response to Sam’s caresses, rubbing his dick on Sam’s leg. And Sam’s so hard, he hurts.

So he gives Dean another spank and Dean moans rather than shouts, having dropped all pretense of not wanting this. When he hits Dean again, Dean moans louder and so they repeat until Sam can’t take it any more.

Sam stops, panting from the effort not to come while Dean squirms on his lap pleading, “Please, Sammy, yes, Sammy, please…”

“Fuck,” Sams says, having reached the end of his patience, and grabs the lube off the nightstand. He squirts some of the cold gel onto his hand and Dean shudders when Sam touches it to his hot flesh. Sam circles around Dean’s hole before pressing inside and Dean puts his ass up as high as he can go.

“Please, Sammy…” Fuck but Sam loves Dean like this. Such a wanton little slut.

He shoves two fingers in, smearing the lube around quick because he needs inside Dean as in yesterday. He’d been ready back in the diner, nevermind now—he’s about ready to explode and the way Dean is spreading for him and whining for Sam’s cock is not helping. Sam smears the rest of the left-over lube on Dean’s skin, wiping his hand off as best he can before giving Dean another smack. “Up on the bed, Dean,” he says. “Come on, get on your knees.” Dean’s already on the bed on his knees but Sam can’t find the damn words at the moment to say what he really wants.

Dean translates for him, pushing himself up off of Sam’s lap and moving to the center of the bed. He spreads his knees wide and buries his head in his hands, looking so damn beautiful as he waits for Sam. Sam turns onto his knees and scrambles after him, getting himself into position behind Dean. His hands are trembling as he grips Dean’s hips which is just fine because it matches the shivers currently racking Dean’s body.

The first push in is tight and warm and has Sam seeing stars. “Fuck, Dean…” He bows over Dean’s back, fighting back his orgasm as he gradually slides into place. Dean pushes back against him, whimpering into the sheets and Sam has to hold himself still in order not to come.

Dean’s fingers touch Sam’s knee and Sam blindly reaches down to grab them, cupping them. “Not going anywhere…” he murmurs distractedly as he begins to thrust. He pulls out nearly all the way before pushing back in until he’s nestled up against Dean, rocking him forward on the bed. He can feel where Dean’s abused skin is still red and he presses against it, making Dean shudder. Sam grips Dean’s hips tighter with the hand that’s not currently holding Dean’s and speeds up the steady motion of his thrusts.

Dean gasps on each in stroke and moans on each out and the soundtrack is driving Sam insane. He loves having Dean under his control like this, loves bringing him pleasure, loves that Dean needs him like this. He gulps in a deep breath of air before leaning forward to lick a spot of skin on Dean’s back. He nips at it before sucking it into his mouth to leave a mark where no one but himself and Dean will know. Where only he can see it.

He squeezes Dean’s hand tight even as he keeps it pinned and releases his grasp on Dean’s hips to slide around to Dean’s leaking cock. Dean sobs when Sam touches him, his body beginning to shake with long shudders and Sam wraps his hand completely around Dean, encasing him in a tight grip. “Yeah, Dean,” Sam whispers. His thrusts get harder and faster until he’s slamming into Dean from behind, the hard slap of skin on skin echoing through the room.

Dean turns his head, glancing at Sam over his shoulder, before his body snaps like a sprung spring, his muscles tightening. He bites his lip, muffling his scream, soaking the sheets and the finger that Sam swipes of the head of his spasming cock.

Sam’s own dick throbs in sympathy and Sam groans as Dean’s orgasm makes him clench down on it. He slams against Dean, fucking him through it just how Dean likes before his own climax overtakes him. Clenching his teeth, Sam comes, pumping inside of Dean, filling him. “Oh fuck…” Sam mutters.

His hips jerk as he rides out the aftershocks, Dean moaning each time. He pulls his hand off of Dean’s spent cock and Dean collapses beneath him, content to be rocked against the bed with Sam’s thrusts. He’s panting softly, every now and then stopping to moan and wet his lips.

With a groan, Sam pulls out. He braces himself against Dean to catch his breath before using his hands to spread Dean wide, watching his claim leak out. A bit rolls down Dean’s thigh and Sam wipes it up with a finger, following the line back to Dean’s entrance and pushing it back inside him. Dean whimpers quietly, shifting against the bed and Sam just can’t help himself. He leans forward, swiping his tongue over Dean’s sensitive hole, licking out the taste of himself and making Dean gasp.

He pulls away and kisses the still reddened swell of Dean’s ass as his finger takes one last swipe through the come before moving to lay down beside Dean’s exhausted, trembling body. He smiles and holds his come-slick finger out to Dean who obediently opens his mouth and sucks it clean. Sam pets Dean’s hair and murmurs about how Dean’s “Such a good boy” and “so damn hot….” Then he helps Dean move to lay down, a position that Dean accepts without complaint, curling up on his side and falling asleep against Sam.

They’re going to have to take a shower soon, or at least get Dean cleaned up a little but for right now, they’re happy right where they are. Sam rolls to meet Dean, wrapping an arm around him, feeling warm and content as he dozes, safe and happy as long as he has Dean.

Sam doesn’t care what the rest of the world thinks—he and Dean have already saved it once already and it can really take a flying fucking leap. He’s got all he really needs lying curled in his arms.

Dean needs a little bit of structure in his life, needs to know where his boundaries are. Sam is more than happy to provide that—he needs to provide that. Together, they are both all each other needs: self-sufficient in and of themselves. Their relationship might be fundamentally fucked up in the eyes of the world but for them, it is structurally sound.


End file.
